


Slow Love, Slow

by uneventful02



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventful02/pseuds/uneventful02
Summary: "Hey, are you here alone?" I hear a female voice behind my back and I turn around. She's there, in front of me. Talking to me.She smiles like a girl in a toothpaste advertisement. "Yeah, my friends are missing too. Do you want a drink?" She offers.Three minutes later we're sitting with our drinks in our hands. The girl's name is Camila and she's gorgeous. I wish I could kiss her."Slow love, slowOnly the weak are not lonely."- Nightwish





	1. Camila

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know exactly what this is, but I've been writing it for a while, so I decided to post it.

I think some people are just born to suffer. They come to the world and grieve, without knowing the reason why, and then grow up and the older they get, the sadder. It's like a virus, some kind of sickness, I don't really know - or care - about how that stuff works.

What I know, is that I've been sad my whole life, and everything that has happened to me just made it worse.

I spend way too much time daydreaming, and being upset about stupid shit normal people wouldn't even notice.

But I do.

Thankfully, most of my time, I stare out the window without really seeing anything, you know. I just stare.

As I light up the fourth cigarette of the evening, I think about this. About how awful life can be for people who know no peace.

My soul's constantly hurt.

All the skyscrapers, all the streetlights illuminating roads and streets and all the cars running around - all these thing make me feel so empty. There's like, a whole universe out there, far from this Earth. A place that doesn't know noise and pollution, and keeps turning, keeps existing even though we're here, pretending we're the center of everything, that we're the product of the well thought out creation by some kind of omniscient god who loves us so much for some wonderful, inexplicable reason.

I don't see magnificence in human life, I don't see anything special. All I see are pathetic attempts to feel safe. Safe from the idea of loneliness, from the horrifying concept of death. We need to feel that we're not lost, running blind on this massive, elliptic ball orbiting around a random star in this uncaring universe. We need to feel powerful and in control, we love to think that a sudden catastrophe wouldn't tear us apart in a second, as if we never existed. Leaving only a trace behind, stones and gravels and skeletons of our modern society. Nature would slowly take back what's hers, eating away the memory of us.

In my fantasies, I pretend I'm not here. I like to travel with my mind, witnessing incredible space events occurring light years away from us, everywhere around us. Satellites moving around Saturn, thick atmospheres no man could live in, sulfuric rain falling from incredibly hot skies, and silence. A deep, perfect silence broken only by natural phenomenas and my own voice resounding in desert lands covered by red dust. Places where I let myself go and scream till my throat aches and my own ears hurt.

Places where I feel finally free.

It doesn't make me feel better, but I feel honest with myself, at least.

I live in a flat lost in the hungry jungle of the city, I don't care about anything.

I earn enough money to survive, I don't fall in love, I hear from my parents twice a week. My mother is so worried I'll end up lonely, surrounded by cats - I wouldn't mind it at all.

When I see her, she stares at me with wide eyes and this sad look on her face, like she's thinking I'm wasting my life - and I probably am.

The sad thing about my depression, is that it doesn't have a real cause. I don't think the bullying in fourth grade affected me that much. Well, sure, I became very shy and silent, but I wasn't bubbly and chatty before that. I don't think that finding out to be gay turned me into this shadow of a person I am lately. I don't know. I think it's in my veins, it is just another thing that runs in my blood.

Like - like a disease, as I mentioned earlier.

I'm here in front of the open window, staring at the smoke as it disappears into the air. I feel so fragile. As if I, too, could fade, blown away by the breeze.

If I jumped, if I fell down, now, letting my body fly for a few seconds until the inevitable impact, maybe I would grasp the reason of this entire existence. I would see the real meaning for my pain, for my breathing, for wars and loves, and the Moon and the Sun.

But I just put out my cigarette and stare at the cars running down the street, chasing anonymous lives with my wild wild fantasy.

I spend my days going to work and coming back home, thoughts trained on what I must do, trying to ignore the small voice crying inside me, reminding me that's not what I wanted to do.

Normani, the only person whose company I enjoy, my only friend, forces me to go out with her, saying that I really need to get my mind off my problems and that I can't stay here playing the victim, that I need to react.

I know she's right, but knowing and actually doing something about it are two very different things.

The bell rings right now and I know this is Normani, she said she would've brought me out tonight, to some new place I don't want to go to.

I open the door and the look on her face almost makes me feel ashamed of myself.

"Lauren."

"Normani."

We stare at each other, before she pushes past me to enter my house.

"Come on, you need to wear something decent."

I sigh, she arches an eyebrow and sits on the couch, patiently waiting for me to make a move.

"You should move, ya know. I'll be here waiting."

I slowly make my way to my bedroom and take a dress from my wardrobe, a black one. It makes me feel safe 'cause it is the one I bought with Lucy, my last girlfriend. She is one of the best things that ever happened to me even though she cheated on me with her best friend and told me that I really needed a psychiatrist. She was probably right about it, although she never listened to me when I was complaining about my life, so I don't think she knew what she was saying.

As I go to the bathroom to do my makeup, Normani gets up and starts talking to me, telling me about her boring day spent watching TV shows.

As soon as I'm ready, we get out.

"We're going to this new place that opened last week. They say it is cool."

I nod absentmindedly. "Great. I really need to drink."

"You really need to get laid." Normani says, smiling.

I laugh.

"Oh, promise me you'll let yourself go tonight. Please."

"Fine, fine."

The night is warm and the atmosphere electrical. In winds mysteriously in front of us, like a narrow path clouded by the mist.

I wish there was a pair of arms holding me tighly, asking to not let go. Someone warming up my heart, setting my body on fire, gracing my skin with fingertips as soft as rose petals, freeing me from all this emptiness.

We get in the club and sit down at the bar, ordering our drinks and talking loudly. Music is pounding in my head and chest, the bass arriving right to the helpless parts of my body, easing my pain. I get lost in the sounds and go dance with Normani, ready for the wildest part of the night.

That's when I first notice her.

She's wearing a white dress that's almost making her glow. She's got big brown eyes and full lips that seem to beg to be kissed.

"I need a drink" I tell Normani, and go towards the bar, where she's standing. I pretend I didn't notice her and sit down.

There's a group of teenagers preventing me to catch the bartender's attention and I wish I could slap them all and tear apart their fake ids.

"Hey, are you here alone?" I hear a female voice behind my back and I turn around. She's there, in front of me. Talking to me.

"Uh... I'm here with a friend of mine. I don't know where she is right now, tho." I hear myself answer, looking for Normani on the dancefloor. I can't see her, obviously.

She smiles like a girl in a toothpaste advertisement. "Yeah, my friends are missing too. Do you want a drink?" She offers.

I nod. "I was trying to get it."

"Oh well, I'll do it for you."

Three minutes later we're sitting with our drinks in our hands. The girl's name is Camila and she's gorgeous. I wish I could kiss her.

She seems a sweet little fairy that has casually found herself in Monsterland.

I feel so honored that she wants to talk to me, and so scared too.

She looks like someone that dreams about dates and making love and happy endings.

She doesn't look like the kind of girl I'm looking for.

But I feel like I've been looking for her for a very long time.

When she caresses my arm I shiver. Her hands are so warm and she's so hot I just want to hide in her embrace forever. I want her to touch me. To touch my heart and my soul and wake me up.

"Do you think your friend will mind if we get out?" She says, her voice low, words whispered in my ear.

I shake my head no and get up. She takes my hand and we get out the club. I feel myself grow tense as the seconds flow by.

As soon as we're out, she pushes me against the wall - then she's all over me. Her lips kiss mine, hungrily. Her tongue grazes my bottom lip, I open my mouth and taste her, and let her taste me.

She puts her arms around my neck, I put my hands on her waist and I swear - god, I swear nothing has ever made me feel like this.

Not even the long nights spent with Lucy, hair tangled in her hair, face buried in the crook of her neck, biting her skin as she gave it to me as hard as she could.

"Oh my God." I say, as Camila kisses my jaw and slowly lets one of her hands travel along my body.

Then she gets away from me and calls a cab. And I am speechless as she pulls me inside the car with her, kissing me again and again and again, and hooking her fingers at the em of my dress.

I think I'm passing out.

There's a fire burning in my lungs, there's a flame between us, I know we both can feel it.

My previous thoughts on Camila being a sweet little angel die as soon as we close the door of her apartment behind our shoulders.

As my finger stroke the soft skin of her inner thighs, softly tracing teasing patterns closer and closer to her center, her breathing quickens and gets ragged.

We're on her bed. Our bodies touch each other everywhere, I'm losing the perception of my own body - every passing second drags me closer to Camila. She's a stranger I've met two hours ago but - but I see the edges between us crumble, disappear. I'm falling into her.

I feel drunk - not of alcohol. It's something else.  
It is her. Her moans, her nails dug in my neck, in my back, teeth biting her bottom lip in the sexiest way I've ever seen.

"Please..." She whispers, eyes half-lidded, almost begging.

I smile at her, she grazes my cheek with the side of her hand. Then I run my tongue along her neck, tasting her skin. I kiss her shoulder blades, her breasts, the curve of her hips and down to her center.

She hisses. I keep going.

I push a finger inside her, feel her walls clench, I add another one.

I can feel her tremble and moan and oh my god - I guess I really needed to get laid.

The terrifying feeling of wanting more of Camila building up with every whispered word, every move, every inch of skin I touch that belongs to this girl I just met.

We don't talk a lot, we just touch and feel and kiss.

I didn't remember it could be like this.

I didn't remember this fever, the sense of wholeness, as if for once in my life I ended up exactly where I should have from the beginning.

And then Camila comes, and I hug her, tight, right before she pushes me on my back, climbing on top of me.

"Your turn."

 

 


	2. Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it is probably boring to read this stream of consciousness, it is pretty static. But I promise from the next chapter on there will be a real story happening. I swear.
> 
> Blame the mistakes on my awful English professors and on my not being a good student.

 

I have a brother - a very loud brother - and a sister. And two parents.

That makes five people living under the same roof.

I’ve always liked silence, and it is a whole new world I really managed to discover when I left my parents’ house and started living on my own, after college.

The first time I was finally able to listen, in the middle of the afternoon, to the nervous pattering of the rain on my window, I knew I was grown up.

The future was over, and I ended up stuck in an infinite present. Basically, I live the same day over and over, everyday from Monday to Friday and then sleep through the entire Saturday and Sunday, ready for the next round of weekdays.

I like silence. I like waking up early in the morning and watching the sun as it lights up the dark night sky. It kind of reminds me of how everything changes and evolves, how nothing is static. That gives me hope for the future. Things won't necessarily be forever as they are now.

Currently, lying on Camila's bed, observing thin rays of light coming in through the blinds, illuminating white walls and tidy shelves, I think about this.

About new beginnings and dark skies.

About immobility and cold loneliness.

It feels so peaceful. We're nowhere, we're secluded, sheltered from everything. My everyday life doesn't exist. This fragment of time is only for me.

I’ve probably received a thousand texts from Normani throughout the night asking me where I am, but I don't want to check my phone. I don't even know where my purse is.

I can feel Camila's arm on the bare skin of my hips, light and delicate; she’s holding onto me like nobody has done in a long time. God knows I needed it.

I needed it so desperately.

I've never liked this kind of vulnerability, it makes me feel weak.

I don't want to be in need of something - even though I’m always in need of something - food, mainly.

I definitely don't want to be in need of someone.

And that's why, all of a sudden, I also need to run as fast as I can. I need to get away from Camila and this familiarity I feel. I need to breathe fresh air and clear my mind from these thoughts.

If I don't want to go, I have to go. I feel like I might break if I stay here one more minute. An unknown pain is clutching my heart.

I move a little, I slide away from her arm and get up, already missing her warmth.

I make my way to the door, picking up my things and getting dressed at the same time.

Camila's scent is everywhere and it's messing with my brain.

It is inside this white, clean house and on the clothes I was wearing last night, that I’m wearing right now. It’s stuck on my skin, it lingers in my memories.

The taste of her, still glued to my lips, makes me thirsty for more, the feeling of her tongue on mine, running down my neck, breasts, chest, thighs- it's driving me insane.

A mindless hook-up with a random girl is quickly turning into one of the most wonderful things ever happened in my life and -  _ fuck _ \- I can't accept this. I’m not going to. I can't accept my life being so uneventful up to now, nor I can tolerate this sensation burning in my chest.

It's fucking irrational. And scary.

I run down the stairs and then I walk home, the shy sun peeking through white clouds, as the city slowly wakes up.

As I arrive home, tired, and sit on the sofa, tears in my eyes and confused thoughts screaming in my head, I text Normani.

The WhatsApp Emoticons are staring at me weirdly, their small, creepy eyes generating some kind of panic within my fucked up mind.

 

**Hey, I’m still alive**

 

It takes Normani only three minutes to call me. My ringtone -  _ Summertime Sadness, _ a classic - resounds so annoyingly in my empty house.

“ _ Where the fuck did you disappear last night _ ?” Normani asks me, her voice aggressive.

“I met a girl.”

“ _ Really _ ?!” The change in her voice is so clear and immediate that I can perfectly figure the shift in her expression. “ _ Did you sleep with her? Did you give her your number? What's her name _ ?”

I feel overwhelmed by these questions. And she should be aware that me spending my night with someone is already a fucking huge achievement.

That's exactly what I tell her.

“ _ Oh, well. I’m glad you did it anyway. She must have been really special if she managed to seduce you _ .”

I sigh. “Mani, it's not what you think. It was just- well, nothing serious.”

“ _ Fine, fine _ .” Her voice sounds unconvinced. She knows me too well. Maybe she's just hopeful. She thinks that I’d be happier if I found somebody to love.

But what about my hypothetical partner? She wouldn't be. I think too much and talk too little.

As Normani leaves me to go have a shower, promising me she’ll come at my house later in the afternoon, I turn on the tv, looking for one of those disturbing programs about murderers and serial killers. I love exploring human nature, and I’m fascinated by its most hidden, mysterious and twisted side.

I end up staring at the screen without really hearing anything, wondering if Camila is awake, and what she might be thinking.

If she was happy, excited to talk to me, if she thought I would have been there this morning, smiling, talking to her, willing to get breakfast with her, maybe even asking her out on a date.

My fantasy is traveling savagely and I really need it to stop.

Probably she wasn't expecting anything special from a stupid girl she met in a fucking club on a stupid Friday night.

But I feel so ashamed. I shouldn't have run away like that. She deserved better.

Then a mean voice in the back of my mind states  _ ‘Yeah, she deserves better than you’ _ , and I drift off to sleep once again, dreaming about soft skin and brown eyes and a shy sun peeking from the clouds.

 

***

 

A new day is always a new start. And Monday sounds good for once. Working means having something else to focus on, something different from my boring weekend and from Camila's lips.

This Monday I woke up thinking that I really want a cat.

It would keep me company and I would love it and so I could start my cat lady career and be happy on my own.

I mean, maybe a cat would make me happy.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing my whole life.

A cat.

I mean, why not?

So, as I sit at my desk at the office, the boring sound of a photocopier in my ears, I start to think about my imaginary kitten.

I can't wait to tell my mum I decided to get one.

Time is passing slower than ever. I really need to go to lunch, I’m going to see Normani.

I miss her, I need to talk to her about cats. And dreams. I had a weird dream tonight, and she loves it when I tell her these things. She listens to all my weird shit.

She must love me dearly.

 

***

 

“Hey Laur. How are you?”

“Great. You?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

She stares at me expectantly. I wonder what she wants to know.

I don't want to talk about Camila, but she’s what I’m thinking about.

I want to ask Normani if we can go to that club once again, because maybe I’ll see her again, and maybe she can meet her and then things will be great and we can be friends.

But I don't want to tell this to Normani, not really, so I tell her about the cat, and she smiles and says that it is a great idea and a cat would be great.

And I think that maybe, it’s not Camila but my loneliness making me overthink things. Maybe if Camila hadn't got those gorgeous brown eyes of hers and that smile, and her voice and had another name, if she was another person entirely, it would've been the same.

Maybe I’d be here thinking about her anyway, because there was nothing special that night.

Maybe I just want to get laid again.

  
Or maybe, I lost my shot at happiness and I’ll spent my whole life regretting it.


	3. In the Wrong Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to write a new chapter for this story, thanks to everyone who read the first two :)

I have thoughts and impressions that sometimes I think don’t really belong to me. Sometimes I’m scared I’m losing myself, as I’m being dragged away by a tide that consumes everything I have inside.

 Is it really worth it? Is this struggle really something meaningful?

Sometimes I’m not really sure I’m going to make it through, and some day they’ll find me here, eyes wide open, staring out into nothing, seeing only shadows and light, or facing another life, or just, finally erased from the world. The unknown.

 It’s thursday afternoon, and I’ve just brought home a kitten. He is black with big green eyes that stare arrogantly into mine. The old woman that gave it to me said that he was perfect for me, because we look so much alike.

 He’s way cuter than I am, though.

 I need to go out again, there a few things I need to buy for my new flatmate. It bothers me to leave him home alone, but I don’t have any other choice, so I go out, praying that he doesn’t kill himself while I’m out.

 I walk down the road to the nearest pet shop – which isn’t near at all, but it doesn’t matter because my mind is plagued by heavy thoughts and ansiety issues, as usual, and I could use I long walk to distract myself.

I like watching people. I try to picture their loved ones and wonder silly things about them, like how old were they when they gave their first kiss, if they believe in god, if they’ve ever done something illegal. I don’t know why, but I find some kind of awkward safety in this activity. Is a way of reminding myself that we’re all weird, lost and creepy in our own ways.

Or, well, I like pretending that we all are. That religion obessessed people have the dirtiest sexual fantasies or that the most peaceful and lovely ones think about killing someone at least twice a week.

 The fascinating thing is that I’ll probably never know what other people’s mind really works and that nobody can tell what happens when somebody really fucks up. Everybody reacts differently.

Humans are interesting. Annoying but interesting nonetheless.

I enter the pet shop and start walking aimlessly around, without being able to find anything for my kitten. I’m unsure about what to buy or why.

“Hey, do you need help?” The voice startles me, coming from behind my back.

I turn around with a frown on my face. “Yes please, I can’t-”

As soon as I find myself face to face with the person who talked, my throat tightens and I can’t speak anymore.

“Oh” _she_ says. “You.”

 “Yeah, Me.” I answer, staring at the ground.

 Her eyes are burning holes in my skin.

 She’s wearing green t-shirt – a very ugly one – but she’s perfect, just like that night almost a week ago.

 Camila is waiting for me to say something, but all I can do is hoping that she is not mad at me.

 When she speaks again I have no doubts, she’s mad.

 “So, what do you need, Lauren?” She asks, her voice filled with venom.

 I… I have a kitten. I kinda need things for him.”

“Like what?”

 “Like everything he might need.”

 She sighs. “Didn’t you think about buying everything before getting the cat?”

 I bite my lower lip, slightly ashamed of my unorganized self. “Well, it was kind of a improvised decision.”

 She nods. Then she guides me around the shop picking up things and explaining me a lot of things about cats.

“Are you a veterinary?” I interrupt her, all of the information she’s just given me are filling my head confusingly.

 She says that she isn’t. “I just love animals. I studied literature, actually.”

 “Oh, nice.” I say.

 She leads me to the check out. She’s silent, but I’m can see the thoughts running in her head. She wants to talk.

She turns around and starts walking away, but ten seconds later she’s back to me. “Why did you left last night?” She asks. Her voices is laced with hurt, and I’m very sorry. She seems a lovely girl and I’d love to kiss her and feel that intoxicatingly great taste on my lips again, because really, she’s so cute and I just know that if I take my time getting to know her, I might fall in love with her. But I know I would hurt her sooner or later, and she doesn’t deserve it.

“I… I just didn’t feel like staying.” I answer. I can feel my voice quiver and she grimaces. She doesn’t believe me.

 “Really?” The right corner of her mouth curls up in a empty smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

 “It was just a one night stand, what did you expect? That I was going to be there in the morning, making breakfast? That we could get together?”

Camila’s eyebrows shoot up, a disbelieved expression on her face. “No, you asshole. I just thought we could get to know each other. Well. I hope you liked what we did, at least. Bye.”

She turns around again and I stand there, staring hypnotized at her long dark brown hair dancing on her back as she walks away.

And I have no idea why I said those things.

 * * *

I run home feeling more tired than ever.

Why is hurting Camila so hard? I mean, I don’t even know her. And I don’t want to.

Right?

_Yes_.

_No_.

_Fuck_.

She’s such a beautiful thing, one of the many I might fuck up one day. I don’t want she to end up consumed by my derailed way of loving.

 

* * *

The evening goes by in a second and next time I look at my phone I find out it’s 4:30 a.m.

My new kitten – I called him Mouse because my sense of humor is just that great – is sleeping on the sofa.

The blue light of the tv illuminates the darkness of the living room.

The house is untidy, everything is in the wrong place. One day in high school one of my teachers said that a room is a picture of what a person has inside, or something like that.

The thought of possibly being in the wrong place suddenly strikes me.

I don’t even realize it, but I ran out of the house.

It’s half past five and I walk, street after street, watching the world waking up, surrounded by a fading night. I enter a Starbucks and the girl at the counter looks like she wants to lay on the floor of the cafè and sleep for the next ten hours.

I would do it.

And this is how, half and hour later, at 6 a.m., I’m standing behind Camila’s door, waiting for her to let me in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asks, her voice sleepy, her eyes tired. I guess she was sleeping. Well, that was pretty obvious. Why am I still awake?

“I… brought breakfast.” I say.

She just looks at me, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Yes...” She starts. But she doesn’t really know what to say.

“I’m sorry.” I begin. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’d like to get to know you.” A shivers runs down my back as I see the girl in front of me liking her lips. “I loved what we did. But… It wasn’t just that. I… I am in the wrong place. I am in the wrong place. Not- not like, right now. Not right now. I mean, in general. I am in the wrong place.”

She doesn’t say anything about my very enigmatic sentence and moves from the doorway to let me in.

As the door closes behind my back, she stands in the middle of the very white room waiting for me to do something. Anything.

It comes naturally.

My fingers find her skin, caressing her cheeks, her collarbone. My lips kissing hers, my tongue running along her bottom lip, the sharp edge of her jaw, the pulse point on her neck.

And I think I could live swallowing the sweet sounds she makes as my body presses on hers and I start undressing her, and my body finds hers. She’s warm, shuddering, the same fever that is burning me, flowing through her veins.

"Lauren" She whispers. Is soft, quiet, full of desire and something else. Something that me think about Camila as something incredibly fragile.

"Camila" I answer. I hope it is charged of the same things.

I love saying her name.

I love how it seems to resound in my body with every beat of my heart.

I think I'll _stay_.

_I think I'll try to stay._


	4. Loneliness is a State of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, there are mistakes probably. I apologize.

The sour taste of loneliness melts with the sweet flavour of Camila's tongue moving against mine.  
Her thighs brush against mine, her hands tangle in my hair. She is exposed, and fragile, and beautiful.

Her skin is warm, so warm. Her mouth is skilled, so skilled.  
As she runs her fingers on my body, she looks like she really wants to see me. To get to know me. To explore me. To get me.

Among all the things that mess up with my sanity, plotting to ruin me, there is this one, amazingly great thing. This person here, a girl that makes me feel forgotten things, shivers and actual desire, with her tanned skin and her bright brown eyes full of dreams and hopes and probably staring out into an horizon full of success.

When she gets up from her bed, saying she's gonna be late for work, there's a sharp bitterness laced to her words.  
A bitterness that doesn't go unnoticed to me, the queen of unspoken.

"If you want to run away, this might the right time to do so." She adds. It cuts right through my pride.

I get up from the bed right after she does and pick up my clothes. Then I go to the kitchen.

I end up sitting on the counter, hands wrapped around a cup of no longer warm coffee, thinking about what I want to do now. Now that a wonderful peace has settled in my heart.  
This intimacy, it feels less scary this morning.

I love the quiet atmosphere, Camila running around the house, looking for her things, getting ready for work. Noises I am not used to hear anymore. I love lostening to she low muttering to herself as she goes from a room to the other and it strucks me how fond I am of someone I don't know.

There are books everywhere, I notice. Books and flowers. Even in the kitchen there are books.

It is cute.

She enters the room and grabs the other cup from the table, staring back at me as I follow the movement of her lips getting closer to her own cup of coffee. I wish I were that cup. Lips curled on the styrophoam, she keeps her blank expression as she tries to detect any sign of anxiety on my face.

I’m inches from falling for her.

I know it.

So suddenly, I'm understanding the meaning of falling in love. Why you fall in love and you don't walk in it, don't get into it.

You stumble into a person and then you fall in love.

It takes time to say it, to expose your feelings. But Love. Love happens suddenly, it appears in your life and fills up the empty spaces of your life like air fills up a room. You don't notice it, you don't realize it. But then you are there, sharing your inner self with this person, as you breathe the oxygen that fills the place where you are.

I know it’s soon, I know it is rushed. But the more I see her moving, the more I see her sending shy glances towards me, the more I can see us together. Being together. She looks like she’s so fragile, but I think there’s an astonishing strength inside of her.

Her eyes are both innocent and wild, bashful and fiery.

She looks like she might conquer the entire world if she just wanted to.

I want to let her conquer me.

I have walls and secrets and I am paranoid and too many things make me feel overwhelmed. But God, if I want to see what it feels like to spend more time with Camila.

“So, what are you going to do now? Why didn't you leave before?” She asks, a worried look on her face.

“What?” I answer. I’m confused, absorbed by my thoughts.

She sighs. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes. Because I’ve got to go to work.” I know she meant something else. I don’t know what to say. I’m so restless I don’t think I can stay, but I’m not sure I can move one step away from her. I need to see her again, I want to keep her in my life. She is good.

It is a selfish thought, but I could use something good in my life for once. Something more than the tense tranquility I’ve settled for. That kind of quietness that is good because it's nothing. Because it is completely empty.

I shake my head, unable to speak.

"Look, I don't think I can run anymore. I didn't come here only to have sex with you again. Even though, you know, it is great."

She’s guarded, careful. But she looks like she’s forgiven me. There’s the ghost of a smile on her face and I start feeling better. “That’s… great, then.” I guess she’s trying to believe me.

I should probably try and write down my thoughts, so I would be able to read them pretending they’re not mine. I might find out what kind of problem is keeping me from having normal relationships with the people around me. But I’m not a great writer, I wouldn’t find the words to describe everything clearly.

I smile. “You’re beautiful.” I say. And I mean it. Inside these words I’m hiding a world of other things I wish I was able to tell her.

Camila, please, look for me. Look for me everywhere, anywhere. Whenever it feels right. Don’t let me go. Even if I’m not sure, even when I seem to be running away. I need you to look for me. I want to spend endless nights with you, and endless days. I want you. I know I'm weird, I know my head is weird. I will never fit into whatever kind of scheme you might want to put me in. I do things my way, I don't let anything to be forced upon me. Everything I do is a choice I made. I've spent enough time praying a god that never found the time to help me mend these wounds. Can you help me? Maybe you're the heavenly answer to my problems.

She lowers her gaze and frowns for a second, as if she doesn’t believe me. She can’t think she’s not beautiful.

“Really, you’re beautiful. Mind, heart, face. You’re just so beautiful.” I repeat.

This time, she seem to realize I am serious. “Thank you, Lauren.”

I was hoping for something better, but this is fine. She looks happier.

“Now we have to go.” She says. I get back on my feet and follow her out the door, ready to go back to the real world and my job.

As we arrive on the sidewalk, she turns to me. “Well… I must go.”

“Yes, so do I.” I stand there but I don’t know what I’m waiting for. If I want a kiss, or an handshake or just a goodbye.

She turns around and starts walking away from me, and I feel scared this time she might want to disappear from my life.

I have left a note with my phone number on her nightstand, while she was in the bathroom. I hope she’ll call me tonight.

Or tomorrow.

Or whatever.

***

She didn’t call. I’ve waited for a call for hours, but she didn’t call me.

I have a bottle of vodka in one hand, the tv remote in the other. But I’m not drinking nor I’m watching tv.

I’m losing myself once again, running towards the foggy horizon I can see in my mind. A gray, mysterious place I can only graze with my fingertips. A place where night and day, and love and hate and beauty and ugliness all condense together and collapse one against the other, each and everyone confusing me. My nightmares are hungry, my lazy mind is too tired to fight them.

I might be drunk.

I’m totally wasted.

But there is always a reason why.

I hate Camila, because she gave me something. A heartbeat. And now, I’m not sure if she’s going to call me or not. I don’t like it.

I exposed myself.

Lana del Rey's voice breaks the silence and it takes me a second to realize that my phone is ringing.

“Uh… who’s this?” I whisper. My head is pounding and my own voice resounds painfully in my ears.

I was overreacting. As usual.

“So, you gave me your number this time. I was afraid it was a fake one, at first. Or someone else's." Camila’s voice states, so warm and soft and slightly raspy. I can see her genuine smile as if she was here. “So, do you want to give me your address, too? I’ve got food.”

My cat is staring at me. His bright, piercing eyes in the semi-darkness of the room are looking insistently at me, and I’m quite sure that, if Normani was here, she would have the very same expression on her face.

I hear my own voice telling Camila my address. I’m not in control of what I’m doing. I don’t care, I’ve been waiting for this phone call all night long.

“Great. Now, don’t fall asleep, I’m on my way.”

She says. Then the line goes silent and I’m left alone with my racing thoughts. I need to get ready. The house is a mess. I’m drunk. I’m not even sure I can move without either throwing up or collapsing on the floor.

“Fuck” I mutter, staring blankly ahead, towards the window. There are dark clouds in the sky.

The ringing of my doorbell wakes me up, half an hour later.

When I open the door, I find Camila standing in front of me, a big bag of food in one hand and her eyes shining.

“Hi!” She says. She doesn’t kiss me, she doesn’t even touch me. “I don’t know what you like, so I brought a thousand different things. I don’t know if you’d like to eat at this hour of the night, but you look like someone that doesn’t sleep a lot, so I thought you might.” 

“I’m happy to see you.” I answer.

“Yeah… great. But don't act like that. We’re not going to have sex tonight, Lauren. We don’t need it. We need to be friends, and get to know each other." Camila replies, smiling slightly.

I frown. "I might really need to do it, you know."

She laughs. "Sure."

"For my health."

"Huh sure" She jumps on my sofa and grabs the cat right away, and he purrs into her arms, enjoying her gentle strokes.

"What were you watching?" She asks curiously, turning her attention to the tv.

"I have no idea. I wasn't really paying attention."

It is a documentary about meerkats. But I'm almost sure that they were talking about snakes before I fell asleep.

She chuckles. I sit down next to her. Our shoulders touch, my heartbeat goes crazy. "So you don't want to eat?"

"I do, actually."

"So why don't you bring here the food?"

I wonder why she left it on the table instead of bringing it here herself, but I don't say anything. My head is pounding hard, just like my beating organ in my ribcage, making me feel like I have drums in my chest, and I get up and get the food. 

"You know, I didn't think you watched documentaries. I thought you were secretly more like Bridget Jones, hidden in your solitude eating ice creams and watching romantic movies."

I snort. "No romanticism. Horror. I don't like romantic comedies. There always so predictable, with their universal scheme: meeting-relationship-someone makes something stupid and they break up-then they say sorry-relationship once again. They all avoid to talk about the gritty reality. About all the times she gets mad at him because he was watching some other girl's ass, and all the time she acts like a completely crazy woman for no reason and all those other things, you know. All those other tragedies humans have to face, like marriage, recession, unemployment, politics, divorce, death. Hiding behind an illusion, dreaming of beautiful stories and happy endings doesn't make them real."

Camila grimaces. "You're... You're like the Grinch!" She looks like a dreamy kid, eyes wide open, a little shocked by my cynism.

"You're going to lose so many great things, if you keep thinking like this." She adds.

"Well, I didn't lose you, right?"

Camila stares at me, taken aback by my words. I am taken aback to, but she doesn't need to know it.

"One step at a time, Lauren. We're going to get there."

"Where?"

She bites her lower lip and only repeats "One step at a time." 

She's still holding my unnamed cat between her arms and I stare at her perfect profile in the darkness of the room.

I don't even realize it, but my headache has gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is reading this story and thanks for the kudos.  
> 


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